Soulbrother
by Kiriga
Summary: Spot finds his soulbrother, or rather his soulbrother finds him. -Sprace in the end, but no warnings otherwise-


**Hey, look what I wrote on the train to/from school today. Four pages fluff, to counter the twelve side morbid. And slash. Though nothing actually happens, Spot's only planning his poker night with Race. (I will write actual Sprace. I swear I will! Someday...)**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Soulbrother<span>  
><strong>

Spot was in a lousy mood. The sun was shining strongly and kept getting in his eyes and the temperature was much too hot for his liking; he felt like he was burning up. There was only one thought in his mind as he tried to sell his papers: he needed to get to the docks. Taking a swim would lift his mood, he thought, and maybe make the rest of the day tolerable. Squinting he looked at the sky and scowled. It was nearing midday and the heat was becoming unbearable. He looked down on the papers he had left and took a hold of a young newsie who was walking past him.

"Here," Spot said as he passed over the papers to the boy who looked shocked—Spot Conlon had talked to him _and_ given him his papers!—before he grinned widely and said thanks. Spot nodded and went on his way towards the docks he and his boys usually could be found at, especially on warm days. When he walked he started feeling some strange sensation, like he was being watched, and he took one quick, casual look around him. There weren't so many people on that street and rather than seeing someone watch him Spot saw people avoiding his eyes and hurrying on their way. A satisfied smirk played on his lips before turning into a scowl again. There was still someone watching him, he could feel it and it was making him annoyed again as well as nervous, though he wouldn't admit it out loud. With a forced calm he laid a hand on the top of his cane and kept walking. That action was often more than enough of a warning but he soon realized it didn't bother the watcher at all. Spot decided to keep to his original plan and go to the docks; there was no place for anyone to hide there.

When he reached his destination he saw that there were already two of his boys there, the fourteen and seventeen year old Gaby and Scabs, apparently deep in a discussion since they didn't notice him coming. Spot shook his head lightly and thought he'd have to teach them to take better notice of their surroundings, and then concentrated on his shadow. He stopped and looked out over the water, looking lost in thought but actually concentrating on listening after the one who'd followed him. There was a slight shuffling and he stifled a smirk. Race had been wrong; it wasn't that Spot was paranoid, there was actually someone stalking him. He waited until the noise was close behind him and then swirled around, drawing his cane in the same movement.

There was no one behind him and Spot hesitated then lowered his cane. He looked around—a glance told him his men still hadn't taken a break from their conversation—and looked puzzled when he still couldn't feel something. A bark brought him from his thoughts and he took a quick step backwards. There was a small, half-grown dog in front of him and Spot tilted his head. The dog, or puppy really, mimicked his action and they stared at each other. Finally Spot stuck his cane back into his pants and crouched. Carefully he reached forward a hand and the puppy sniffed it just as carefully. Then it started licking it and waved its tail. Spot scratched its head softly and it pushed against him like it wanted him to pet it more forcefully. He obliged and the puppy laid down and showed its stomach. Spot couldn't stop the small smile that broke out on his face.

"You want to be petted, huh? Guess I can do that," he mumbled. When he scratched one certain spot the puppy's leg kicked so he kept scratching there and the puppy kept kicking wildly. "You're actually kinda cute, you know." The puppy seemed to grin at him and he chuckled. "'Course you do. Arrogant thing. Guess you're my stalker, ain't you? Hm. Coulda been worse, at least you ain't trying to kill me or take my city." The puppy sat up to whine sympathetically to him and then jumped on his leg and tried to lick his face.

"Look a' that, Scabs, the leader's found himself a new friend. An' it's a real cute one too, just look a' it!" Spot immediately dropped his smile, stood up, and turned to frown at the two newsies.

"You finished promising each other your eternal love now? Took you long enough. Haven't I taught you guys to always be aware of your surroundings?"

"You might have." Scabs scratched his neck and shrugged good-naturedly. "Yeah, you probably did, since you're, well, you, boss. Me an' Gab was just talking, but I'm sure we'd have noticed if anyone tried to attack us. Before they attacked us, I mean," he said with a crooked smile. Spot didn't smile back but Scabs didn't take it personally—after all, he was well aware that his boss didn't like being disturbed, no matter what he was doing. He'd have been satisfied leaving Spot alone until he felt the need to come to them, but Gaby had seen the puppy and couldn't be stopped. Sometimes, Scabs thought to himself, Gaby could be a terrible headache, but since they were friends he couldn't just leave him alone. Especially since Gaby sometimes seemed to have a death wish.

Gaby had crouched and was grinning at the puppy. He turned quickly to Scabs. "Look a' it, it's so cute. Hey, Spot, what's its name? Is it a girl or a boy? I think it's a boy. You'd probably scare away the girls. But maybe it's a really brave girl-dog. Must be one hell of a brave girl-dog then," Gaby mused. Spot and Scabs shared a look and Scabs wondered if he should apologize on his friend's behalf, but Spot apparently read his mind and shook his head. He didn't need to.

Gaby reached out a hand to pet the puppy, unaware of the two elder boys' exchange, but the dog glared at him and growled darkly. Gaby yelped and pulled his hand away, then frowned at the puppy who'd gone back to happily nuzzling Spot's leg. "She tried to bite me! That ain't no girl-dog, it's a mean boy-dog, I'm sure of it. Scabs, take it away from me," he complained.

Scabs raised an eyebrow at the puppy, then shook his head. When it had growled at Gaby he had been struck by the impression of how much like Spot it had seemed. "Stop pretending to be four an' helpless, it ain't convincing to anyone. Get away from the dog if you don't want to lose fingers, you brat." Gaby pouted but did quickly hide behind Scabs.

Spot had resumed his petting of the puppy, who didn't seem to be able to get enough of him. He had an amused smirk on his face as he looked down on the dog. "You're an interesting one, ain't you?"

* * *

><p>Spot lay in his bed, the heat having become too much for him and just making him drowsy, so he'd decided to go back to the lodging house and wait for the sun to disappear before he went out again. The puppy had chased out the newsies who'd been gathering in the house, much to Spot's amusement, so it was silent. Spot was sure he'd fall asleep any moment.<p>

"Hey, Spot, I heard you have a new pet. Wanna tell me when you suddenly decided that you liked dogs?"

Spot opened one eye and saw Fingers, his right-hand man, stand in front of him. The other boy wasn't looking at him but keeping an eye on the puppy who lay on Spot's stomach. It was slumbering, much like what Spot had been doing, but when he started moving it raised its head and looked at him. He absentmindedly scratched it and pursed his lips. "I don't know. It followed me."

Fingers looked unconvinced. "So? Why didn't you leave it outside or something? You're sure acting like you've decided to keep it." Spot looked at him a moment in silence before he shrugged. Fingers sighed and took a step closer, about to share some more of his thoughts about the situation, when a low growl reached him. He looked over at the puppy who had bared its teeth and seemed to be ready to attack him. Spot frowned down on it and slapped it on its head.

"Don't you growl at him, he's my second-in-command, and you better be play nice with him or you're out of here. Gottit?" Fingers wondered briefly if Spot had taken a hit against his head lately, to make him talk to a dog like it'd understand him and his orders, but was taken aback when the puppy whined softly and snuggled against Spot as if apologizing. Spot wasn't amused. "Don't suck up to me, suck up to him over there."

The strangest thing was that the puppy actually jumped down from Spot and sauntered—the freaking dog sauntered, Fingers couldn't describe it any other way—over to him. It regarded him a moment before seemingly finding him acceptable and nuzzled him leg with a demanding bark. Speechless he bent down and scratched it behind the ears.

Spot smirked at him and settled back into his bed. "That's why I suddenly decided I like dogs. And it's a he, if any of the boys are asking, which they will be once you go back to wherever they've hidden. And tell 'em I've told him to stop growling at them, but I wouldn't try to pet him if I was any of them. Now go, it's hot and I'm tired and I wanna sleep."

Fingers turned around and left the room, not seeing how the puppy made its way back to Spot's stomach and settled down again.

* * *

><p>The puppy had found a dead rat it was sniffing as Spot watching, bored with having nothing to do as he waiting for Race to come meet him. They'd planned to meet that evening and have a game of poker, just the two of them. Of course, if something different were to happen, something much more interesting than playing cards, then Spot wouldn't mind. He was already planning the different ways he could get Race to play strip poker and how they'd go on from there.<p>

"That really is a dog. They weren't telling shit then."

Spot turned and frowned at Race. "Why's it so unbelievable I have a dog?"

Race gave him an exaggerated frown and then smirked. "Well, let's just say that you ain't the type who goes around with a cute little puppy running by yer feet. Least, that's what everyone thought. Me too, of course. Good thing I didn't bet anything before coming here, I don't have that much money on me. But that's gonna be changed tonight, am I right?" He said and winked. Spot rolled his eyes and opted to keep silent. Race turned his gaze back to the puppy who he found was already looking at him. He raised an eyebrow in challenge and the puppy tilted its head. Spot sighed.

"Race, pet him. He won't bite you, I promise," he said while looking directly at the puppy.

Race wasn't sure if he wanted to do that, since the things he'd heard about the little thing had been kind of freaky, scary and amusing at the same time, but he shrugged and crouched. The puppy watched him and took some steps forward. Race reached out a hand and said, "Hiya, nice to meetcha. I'm Racetrack Higgins, but you can call me Race. I'm sure your owner's told you a lot 'bout me. Just hope it's the good stuff he told you."

The puppy stared at him a second before scoffing and giving him a superior look that clearly stated 'you're a silly human and not worthy of my attention, but since he said to I'll be nice to you.' It was actually quite amazing, this dog, Race decided. When it nudged his hand to say that it was ready to be petted, Race almost felt honored.

Spot watched it all and didn't bother trying to hide his amusement, but he wanted to get his plans with Race—his very, very private plans with Race that involved getting them very, very naked together—going. "So, Race, you coming?" Race looked up at him and nodded.

They walked back to the lodging house, which's inhabitants had been warned that Spot and his guest were not to be disturbed. It was a very good thing Spot had, as the leader of Brooklyn, his own room. It was small, very small, and didn't have much space for anything other than his bed, but it had a door that could be locked. He was planning on locking that door. Spot shot a glance at the puppy walking by his feet, who gave him a knowing look in return. Spot smirked. He could guess his dog had his own plans for the evening—probably involving, at least partly, scaring newsboys—and Spot was certain that all the plans would keep him out of his owner's room. He could practically hear the dog's comment: 'I don't want nothing to do with what you humans do together. I'm way too young for that kind of shit, so leave me out of it.'

Spot actually smiled when Race slung an arm around his shoulders. "So what's your plans for the night?"

"Oh, don't worry, I think you'll like them. Now, when was the last time you played strip poker?"

* * *

><p><strong>If anyone's curious, the dog is an Irish softcoated wheaten terrier. Just a FYI. And his name is Softy.<strong>


End file.
